I look at Gram. She has a huge smile on her face. The one that makes her eyes dance with life. It’s my favorite one. Not that I ever tell her.
“Gram,” I swing my arms out then shove them into the pockets of my jeans. “I’ve been waiting. Where the hell–”
Gram stands up, letting go of the girl’s small hand. She narrows her eyes and my mouth snaps shut.
“Lannie! You watch your mouth, son.” Gram is tiny and frail but I know better than to mess with her when she has that look. I make it over to her in three steps.
“Sorry, Gram.” I slide my arm around her shoulder and toss my best smile down at her. It works pretty much every time. I open my mouth to tell her I was worried, but remember the girl. I know it’s completely messed up but I don’t want to say it in front of her. I also don’t need this girl knowing I’m going to be late for the last meeting with my probation officer. I pull lightly on Gram’s shoulders to try to guide her to the door but she has her feet planted and that’s that. I know Gram better than to keep trying.
“I wanted you to meet someone. This is Talia Gregory.” Gram looks from me to Talia and back again. She has that big grin on again but this time it’s laced with a smugness that says there is more to this introduction than I think. I groan quietly and shift my weight. Her insistence that I drive her today totally makes sense now.
She’s been planning this all day.
Great. I’m being set up by my grandmother with a girl in a knitting club who doesn’t look a day over sixteen. Gram knows nothing about my taste in women. Or maybe she does…
“Hey,” I say coolly and Talia’s head lowers, shifting her gaze into her lap. The back of her hair is tucked into a wool hat. A pretty fucking awesome hat.
“Nice hat. I’ve been looking for one like that. Where’d you get it?” I try to ignore the fact that Gram is looking back and forth between us like a cat watching a ping-pong game.
Talia looks up. Her eyes are the darkest blue. I didn’t even know that eye colour existed.
“I made it.” Her voice is soft but high pitched. I’m not sure if that’s how she always sounds or if she is just scared of me.
Most people are just scared of me, so I’ll go with the general consensus.
“How much would you charge to make another one?” I kind of want that hat. I’ve looked everywhere for one. But all the ones I’ve found are trendy and lame.
Gram reaches over and tugs the hat off Talia’s head causing waves of hair to spill messily over her shoulders. Talia’s shocked but she doesn’t make a move for it. Her cheeks flush a light pink.
Is she shaking?
She totally looks like a deer. Completely pure and innocent. I’m wondering what that innocence would feel like, which shocks me. I don’t think I’ve ever been innocent. Not like her. Not truly. Until this moment I don’t think I’ve ever thought about it either.
Gram shoves the hat into my hands pulling me from my thoughts. A smell similar to Grams vanilla almond cookies fills the air around me.
“Here, you can have this one.”
“Gram!” I try to give the hat back to Talia but Gram intercepts it.
“It’s okay. You can have it,” Talia practically whispers.
I try to protest but Gram cuts me off.
“I’ll pay her for the hat. She’s making a hundred more for the Christmas charity drive anyways, right, Talia?”
Talia looks from Gram to me and nods her head slowly. Her cheeks go from pink to red and she stands up with a jerky movement. She is a lot shorter than me. Her hands are shaking. This chick is seriously tense.
“I should go.”
“Do you need a ride, dear?” Grams eyes sparkle and I feel sorry for Talia. I am never embarrassed by Gram, but right now, I’m bordering on it.
“No,” she says sharply, her face going three shades redder, “I mean, I have my bike and I have to meet my, uh, boyfriend.”
She keeps her head down as she heaves her multi-coloured bag over her shoulder and fits her old-school headphones over her ears. I can tell she wants to get out of there as fast as possible. And, so do I.
~
“So, are you going to explain yourself?” I ask when we’re in the car. Gram stares blankly and I raise my eyebrow.
“Explain what, son?” She shrugs and I can’t help but smirk.
“You know damn well what, Gram.”
“Watch your mouth.”
“I’m almost 18, and damn isn’t even a swear.”
“It is in my house.”
“Stop changing the subject.” I smile wider and shift the car into drive.
“What were we talking about?” Gram always fakes dementia when she wants to get away with something.
“You can’t just force me onto girls you know, Gram. This isn’t the 1800’s. That girl looked terrified. And, you practically stole her hat.” I rub my thumb over the wool as I speak. The dark fibres are soft and still warm. A faint scent of vanilla hangs in the air.
“I did no such thing.” Her voice goes up and she clutches at her sweater dramatically.
I roll my eyes.
“Yeah, okay Gram.”
“I’ll pay her for the hat. I said that already. Now Lannie, I’ll drop you off at your meeting, I need to pick up some things from the store. Call me when you’re done.”
I laugh and toss the hat over my shoulder into the back seat.
No one can compete with the stubbornness of old ladies.
~
Officer Rawlins has a small, warm office. It’s inviting and has pictures of calming scenery and waterfalls and shit. Doesn’t change the fact that I hate coming here. I hate the clacking sound of his keyboard as he takes notes. I hate how he looks at me with that genuine concern. Like he actually wants to help me.
He’s wearing that ‘concern’ now. His thick greying eyebrows push together and his dark eyes set in a hard stare. I don’t like when people try and look inside me like this. Wrinkles run across Rawlins forehead, but there’s a small smile hidden behind his greying beard.
His hand gestures to the chair opposite him. I sit, lean back and throw my arm over the back of the chair next to me.
“Hello, Lachlan. How are you today? Excited that this is our last meeting, no doubt.” He chuckles.
I thought Probation Officers were supposed to he hard asses. Jerks. Power hungry douchebags who couldn’t hack it in real cop school. But Rawlins is soft spoken, rational and real. He isn’t a push over but he’s never made me feel like punching him either, like my previous PO. It puts me on edge.
I run my hand over my tattooed arm, my fingers bumping over all the scars. Let’s just say I’m not used to guys like him.
“Yeah, I guess,” I answer, and he starts clacking away on his keyboard. I crack my knuckles. I don’t know why but I want nothing more than to smash that keyboard. I liked it better when he wrote it down on paper, and I learned to read upside down to see what he was saying about me.
Rawlins mumbles some stuff as he types and asks me questions in between. He doesn’t waste time with niceties. I like that about him.
“You were arrested at the age of 15 on one count of drug trafficking, resisting arrest and underage drinking, is that correct?”
My heart is slamming against my ribs and my knuckles are white. I hadn’t noticed that I had balled them into fists.
Why is he bringing this up again? How I ended up in this chair once a month is the last thing I want to talk about.
Why can’t we just say see ya later, and get it done with?
“Yes.” I spit through clenched teeth.
“And this was just three weeks after your mother’s arrest?”
I nod. I don’t want to talk about her either.
“You were… MIA, shall we say, for those three weeks?”
“What does this have to do with anything? Just like to relive the good times on our last meeting?” I mutter. But I wasn’t MIA, I was on a three-week bender where I smoked, drank, ate, snorte
d and screwed everything I could. I’m not proud of it. Rawlins knows that.
Rawlins looks over his computer and I’m sure he’s smiling even though I can’t see the bottom of his face.
“I’m closing your file, Lachlan. You should be happy. But first we have to make sure nothing’s changed. Paperwork and government. You know how these things go.”
I stretch my arms up then rest them on my head. I lean further down into the chair.
Rawlins knows me well enough to read me and when I stay silent, he continues.
“Just before your 16th birthday, you were sentenced to four months in a federal juvenile detention center, six months community service and two years probation, completing your incarceration and community service on time and in good standing?”
I tilt my head toward the ceiling.
“Yeah.” My leg bounces up and down, my heel slamming down on the tiled floor. I force out the memories, I’m good at keeping them at a distance. I’m good at keeping most things at a distance. Which is why I get so agitated when someone tries to dig up my expertly covered past.
“And you were given this sentencing in part because of the circumstances leading up to your arrest and in part because your grandmother, who is an upstanding member of this community, testified under oath and took full legal and financial responsibility for you and your actions?”
My head snaps up. My heart starts hammering again but not from anger this time.
“I didn’t know that,” I lean forward and put my forearms on his desk. It’s Rawlins turn to lean back in his chair and cross his arms, resting them on his belly.
“Well, you are turning 18 in a couple months and will officially be an adult. I think it’s important for you to know. It’s important for you to know how much she sacrificed for you because she believed in you. You’re lucky to have her.”
My jaw hinges up and down a couple times. Why didn’t she ever tell me that? I thought they gave me a lighter sentence because of him. I run my hand along my tattoos again and lean back. The tattoos my Gram had paid for, just to help me cover up the scars. To turn them into something beautiful. Meaningful.
My fingers move along my forearm in a zig zag pattern following the lines of my favorite tattoo. The tattoo that means the most to me.
It’s also the one people hate the most with torn and rotting skin being sewn back together with yarn from my wrist to my elbow, covering the hellish and horrifying imagery beneath it. To me it means the most. This is the tattoo that Gram inspired. She’s the only one who can stitch me back together. She’s the only one who’s ever tried.
I don’t know why I’m surprised that she would take full responsibility for me.
I do know I’m doing a bad job of making it up to her.
The rest of the meeting is quick. I answer yes and no to all his questions and I’m standing up to leave before I know it.
Rawlins reaches over his desk and holds out his hand. I shake it.
“Well, you take care of yourself Lachlan. I have high hopes for you.”
I shove my hands in my pockets. That’s his first mistake. No one should have high hopes for people like me.
“Yeah, uh, thanks. It feels good to be outta shackles.” I half-smile at him. He laughs.
“Well you still have a couple more support meetings. So you’re not completely off the hook yet.”
Ah, fuck. If there’s anything I hate more than probation, it’s my support group.
“Yeah, I’ll be there. Take it easy, Rawlins.”
“Say hello to Georgina for me.”
I just nod as I walk out the door.
~
“You know you spoil me, right?” I ask Gram over my steaming plate of spaghetti. My serving is three times the size of hers. She cuts her spaghetti with a knife and fork while I just scoop and slurp mine into my mouth.
“You know you eat like an Ox, right?” Gram smiles and I smile back.
“I’m a growing boy.”
“Well one day you’re going to stop growing up and start growing out,” Gram pats her small belly and I snort.
“Do women always care about the size of their stomachs?”
“Til the day they die, son.”
“Will they ever know that we don’t really care?”
“Do men always think everything is about them?” She mocks.
“Til the day they die, Gram.” I wink at her.
It is moments like this when I am truly happy. I can’t imagine life without Gram. Actually, I can. I never want to go back there.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, vibrating against my leg. I wipe my hands on my jeans and ignore Gram’s frown while I fish the cell out of my pocket.
Midnight. Last time.
The text has a happy looking speech bubble around it. There’s nothing happy about this message.
“Your mother called today,” Gram says absent-minded. The words jar me from my thoughts and I tuck the phone back in my pocket.
“Yeah?” I don’t really want to talk about my mom.
“She wanted me to wish you luck with your Probation meeting and that she loves you very much.”
I roll my eyes and Gram glares.
“She didn’t want to remind me why it’s my fault she’s in prison this time.”
“Watch your attitude, Lannie. You’re not the only one in this world that’s had to make difficult choices.”
I hold back a laugh. Her choices were easy. She always chose him.
“Sorry, Gram.” I force a smile and stand up to clear the dishes.
“You may not see it but she loves you more than you know. Someday you’ll realize the sacrifices made in this family and you won’t be rolling your eyes like a little boy.”
Rawlins’ words echo through my mind. Gram’s sacrifices. The ones she made for me. Those are the only ones that mean anything to me. Not Mom’s. Gram’s.
The realization feels like an unexpected punch in the gut. It actually hurts.
CHAPTER THREE
Talia
I’m stopped at a red light, one foot on the curb to balance my old Beachcomber bike and one eye on the flashing red ‘don’t walk’ sign. I have one headphone piece on my ear and the other off so I can hear the traffic. I slide my phone open and send Janna a quick text. She’ll get a kick out of this. She has been boy crazy since the first day of kindergarten. My hands are still shaking a little.
You’ll never guess what just happened to me…
I throw the phone in my bag. The light turns green and I continue my way to Vista Court.
I’m in shock that Georgina tried to pawn me off on her grandson but now that I’ve calmed down a bit it’s more absurd than anything else.
Lachlan McCreedy.
On this, or any other alternate universe, us even being friends is a ridiculous thought.
It’s not like he’s the hottest guy in school or anything, but Lachlan is a big deal. He gets noticed. He’s a senior so I never see him, mostly because I make myself invisible. But everybody knows him, and everybody stays out of his way. Not shocking, considering his constant glare and those massive tattoos.
I’ve heard Georgina tell stories about how perfect and wonderful her grandson is for almost a year and never ever would I have made the connection that Lannie was Lachlan. Never.
It’s like he has a split personality. Or Georgina is delusional. Or all the rumors about Lachlan aren’t true. I don’t know which one to settle on.
When I steer my bike up Deacon’s driveway, Janna is waiting for me. Her long body leans up against the oversized three-car garage making her look shorter and smaller than she is. Her red hair is wet and tangled around her shoulders. I’ve always been envious of her. I wish I knew what that felt like to be so laid back. Janna’s never stressed out about anything. I think it’s why we’ve stayed friends for so long. I stress and she makes a joke out of it. I panic and she distracts me with something fun. I get upset and she does that thing with her voice that makes me laugh every time.
When she sees me she pushes off the garage and skips down to me straddling the front tire of my bike. I notice for the first time that she’s not wearing pants.
That’s a little weird, seeing as she’s at my boyfriend’s house. But I guess she’s been friends with Deacon longer than she’s been friends with me. Still, a little weird.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” She shakes my bike gently.
“Like what?” I ask but I notice my nose is wrinkled and I’m glaring at her.
“Like I just hit on your dad or something.”
“You’re not wearing pants.”
Janna laughs. It seems so easy for her.
“Tali, I was swimming. Would you rather I go naked?”
I shake my head and smile.
“D and I used to bathe together. Totally no big deal.”
We walk to the back yard and I lean my bike on the fence.
Well you didn’t look like this when you were three, I think, scanning her stupidly long legs, then push the thought out of my mind. I crack my wrists. I don’t need to panic right now. It’s not a big deal. They’re swimming. I trust her. She’s my only friend and she can have any guy she wants. They’ve known each other their whole lives.
Deacon’s in the pool and as soon as I see him I get that nauseous feeling I always get when I know something bad is going to happen. Something is wrong with us, but watching him I wonder if it was ever right with us. Janna set us up. I didn’t want to do it. I’m still not sure if I’m with him for me, or her.
Janna has her arm looped through mine and she tugs me closer to the pool.
“You okay?” she laughs. “You look like you’re going to barf.”
I hate that I’m so transparent. I hate that I’m so afraid of everything.
Deacon looks at me, his arms crossed on the cement lip of the pool and his body floating out behind him. He has the perfect smile. Too perfect, like it’s not real. I always catch myself thinking things like that. How can someone like him like someone like me? It’s so stupid. There’s nothing wrong with me. Well, nothing a little Valium can’t handle.
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